FOOL THAT I AM

& she will stay put right where she is
& if she wants to walk these streets
at any hour among the pimps & ho's
then she will do just that

she has her own key, her own room
& knows how to get downtown, so she
was always alright with coming to the hood.

i can't let her go cuz she sings to me
let's me sing with her & she ain't hung up
cuz we both dated the son of a preacher man
mornings we have breakfast in bed
watching good morning america & oprah

my mom came over & met her,
telling her it's commedable that she
didn't sing to segregated audiences
in africa, but "you should've made
a song with george clinton to really
make the queen mad."

that was funny to dusty...

like when i make fun of her singing the
growing pains theme song. she stops then,
correcting me that were that song not there
for that series, it wouldn't have been a hit.

she's right there.

HER: kirk cameron is christian now?
ME: yeah. go figure.
HER: i know, right!

the neighbors don't know what to make
of us as we walk to the liquor store under
the elevated train to get unfiltered camels
& bottles of wine--we pick colors according
to our temperments.

me/crazy/red & white
she/crazy/red & white & what's on sale

we have no shame as we exit the one-story
structure strewn with youth talking their talk
& the elders talking their talk while the women
peddling their secret stashes go from crowd to crowd.

HER: this is all a song. can't you hear the music all around u?
ME: yeah, i hear it, but i wish somebody takes a little of that treble out.
HER: clearly! i hear that hideous infraction as well!

sometimes, we drink with them
entertaining them with standards
as dusty will not sing the preacherman song
for just anyone.

don't forget about me is the dope fiend's favorite.

she moved out awhile ago, but she calls every
now & then. we sing over the phone now
at the beginning & end of our storied conversations.
it wasn't that we didn't get along, it's the weather here
she prefers back overseas where her blue eyed soul
came from.

HER: god, i miss u. u were the only one who could wear out "i just can't make it alone"
ME: get out! i only follow that voice of yours. are you coming back soon?
HER: sure am, but just in case i don't make it soon, you can sing all the parts of all the songs.
ME: get out?
HER: i'm trying. the pet shop boys aren't as fun as you & i do love chicago's bronzeville.
ME: maybe we can make a song about that.
HER: that would be nice!

all the cd's i own of her singing are on
the top shelf of my cd rack & the talk
never ends & the singing soon begins
& the glass she always used
i fill up with wine, serendading all the
days i lived with dusty springfield
in notes & rhythms only she & i
could ride together

H.